Shane Storie is a sign lover. He makes them and collects them off defunct Winnipeg landmarks — the roller rink, Kelekis Restaurant. And he runs a sign shop minutes away from Westview Park, better known as Garbage Hill on account of it sitting atop a dump dating to the 19th century. So when a sign appeared on the crest of that mound, spelling out Garbage Hill in white capital letters, many suspected Storie. People called all week, friends and colleagues in the sign industry and city bureaucrats, all wanting to know, did he do it?

“No,” he said. “If it was me I would be on TV right now.”

“I would be claiming 100 per cent ownership right now because that guy’s going to be a folk hero.”

As of Tuesday night, the shadowy creator had not been revealed – though at least two locals emerged, claiming to speak on the creator’s behalf, saying he needed time, maybe a few days, to process all the intrigue his creation had suddenly brought.

It may seem odd that Winnipeggers en masse, Mayor Brian Bowman among them, have gleefully embraced a sign revealing the tallest peak in town to be an old garbage heap. But that, local artist Cliff Eyland said, is part of the Winnipeg sense of humour — one that delights in the seemingly endless struggles of life in that city. (It’s important to note, Eyland said, that Garbage Hill’s title of tallest peak is often usurped by a hill made of snow clearance at the edge of town.)

“I like to think it could have been any Winnipegger,” said Loren Remillard, president of the Winnipeg Chamber of Commerce. “Again, this is a hill formed on top of garbage… While others see garbage, we made something that is enjoyed by citizens.”

The hill, which operated as a landfill from 1875 to 1948, has occasionally made that enjoyment difficult, belching up car fenders and other refuse that has imperilled tobogganers, the Winnipeg Free Press reported.

“Long live Garbage Hill. Our Hollywood mountain on the prairies,” Mayor Bowman wrote on Twitter after the sign was removed. “I’m with Winnipeggers who want the Garbage Hill sign back provided city processes are respected.”

It is not exactly clear when the sign appeared, though some suggested it showed up over the weekend. The sign on Garbage Hill lingered until late Monday, when city staff tore it down because its yet-unknown creator did not apply for the requisite permit. The sign itself, city spokesperson Kalen Qually said in an email, “presented safety concerns.” Screws and nails protruded from the sign and the material wasn’t likely to survive the elements, the city said.

Long live Garbage Hill. Our Hollywood mountain on the prairies. I’m with Winnipeggers who want the Garbage Hill sign back provided City processes are respected.

“It wasn’t made in someone’s backyard,” said Jeff Baumer at Contempra Signs. “It would have came out of a shop that’s got money.”

From the clean cuts through the wood, it appeared to have been made by a machine, he said. Though others suggested it could have been done, very carefully, with a jigsaw.

“Who the hell would be motivated to do that?” asked Don Gaye at the Sign Source.

Storie, the sign lover who runs SRS Signs near Garbage Hill, said it looked like whoever made it cut the letters out of a door, judging by the thickness of the wood. But it wasn’t a signmaker, he said. “I’m the only signmaker that thinks he’s funny enough that would have bothered to spend money on that project, and it was not me,” he said. “None of them would spend that time and money and go sneak out at night to go dig a whole in the ground.”

Late Tuesday, hours after he first spoke to the National Post about the sign, local artist Cliff Eyland had new information. A friend had called him to confess, Eyland said.

“He just phoned me. I know him from town,” Eyland said. “He doesn’t want his name revealed.”

The man told him he made the letters from an old garage door.

“He just said he doesn’t want to talk now, he needs a couple of days to process. He said I could tell people about the garage door detail and that’s it.”

So, is this man an artist?

“Maybe,” Eyland said.

Hang on, how do we know it isn’t Eyland?

“It’s not me, man. I don’t do that s–t. It’s too big for me. I just make tiny things,” he said.